The Broken Doctor:PART TWO:: Raising The Bar
by TheConsultingDetective
Summary: After the uncomfortable truth is hinted at, John goes mad with paranoia. Attempting the breach the topic he feared only to find Sherlock has a surprising outlook on the situation. Still in denial about the focus of his affections he attempts to resolve his confusion only making the situation that much worse, and ultimately more painful.


CHAPTER TWO:

Case after case after case, it was as though time was fleeting, minutes got shorter and days seemed to fly by so quickly, John didn't get the time to think, his life was a whirlwind of excitement. So when it did calm down, he felt time catch up. Each minute lasted an hour, the silence was tortuous, he knew what he wanted to say to fill the gaps between small talk, but he could never find the right words.

Sure they had joked about it once before, but not a conversation. He knew it would be uncomfortable, and he didn't even know what to say. He could hardly deny what he had told her, the woman in the bar, nor could he deny the extreme attraction he felt for her when he recognized in her what Sherlock had. But that in itself wasn't the way it sounded. There was a perfectly good explanation for it, John just had no idea what that was.

Sherlock on the other hand, seemed not to notice the elephant in the room. Which caused it just to grow with each incredibly long moment. It was driving John mad. How Sherlock stayed distracted from the pit of nothingness was beyond him, normally Sherlock would be jumping up and down complaining about being bored or shooting holes in their wall.

That's when it hit him, like a brick to the face the realization struck John with immense force that caused him to mentally slap himself. Sherlock had noticed, of course he had he noticed everything. His silence wasn't for his own benefit but John's, normally he would push the matter to understand it in great detail, not this time which left John completely uneasy. What did he think he understood? Whatever it was he was wrong. Completely utterly wrong, what was he thinking?

"Damn it Sherlock!" John blurted out randomly over some average canned soup at the kitchen table, Sherlock looked up from his soup, eyebrows raised in confusion. John wasn't buying it, he knew, of course he knew he was The Sherlock Holmes, he knew everything. "Don't give me that look"

"What look" Sherlock frowned which only infuriated John more. He always played so naive, why couldn't he for once have an adult conversation with him without his little games.

"You know very well the look, the 'I don't know what your talking about John, do explain it to me' look. Its annoying"

"What look? I don't have a look, its my face"

"Just say it Sherlock, say what you've been dying to say" The two sat in silence for a moment, it ate John up inside, god how he wished this man would just open up, say how uncomfortable he felt so John could say 'its not like that, relax' or something and they could go back on with their platonic lives.

"…could you pass me the salt?"

"Salt?... SALT?" Instantly John was up, annoyed. Sherlock's gaze followed him up but he sat unfazed by the outburst. John had them frequently. "You're a real piece of work Sherlock"

"I don't know what you want me to say John" Sherlock's voice was controlled and calm, that in itself annoyed John, how could this man stay so calm while he was flying off the handle.

"I want you to tell me anything, I want you to tell me how awkward this is, how weird you feel or something, Just give me something PLEASE"

"But I don't" God damn it, throw me a god damn bone here. John rubbed his forehead about to speak. "John why are you so bothered by this?" Sherlock sighed, his naive act dropping, thank god.

"Because I don't know what you're thinking and I'm worried" John told him honestly sitting back down, now feeling his stomach churn, no longer wanting this conversation to take place.

"John…" Sherlock paused trying to find the right words; he seemed at a loss too.

How John wished he could go back to the silence, take back his outburst. They would have eventually gotten past it without talking about it. "John whatever feelings you have, it doesn't bother me"

"…No, no no see this is why I wanted to air this out… I don't have feelings like that."

"Right, of course not."

"None, I'm not gay."

"What does that matter?" What? That matters a lot? What the bloody hell does he mean by that? Stay out of my head damn it! "John you don't have to be gay to have feelings for someone"

"Im pretty sure it's a major part of it though"

"John are you attracted to men?" Oh for Christ sake.

"NO"

"Are you attracted to me?" Dear god, this was NOT how he wanted this conversation to go… Not how he pictured it AT ALL.

"No… no… im not."

"But you are emotionally? At least on a subconscious level, she picked up on it John. She used it. There is no point in arguing it"

"Conversation over Sherlock" John stood back up, this time Sherlock stood with him. Great now he wants to talk. Super.

"John we are friends, it took me a while to acknowledge that. Because alone is what I had, it protected me. But now, you mean the world to me" Oh god is this a statement of love?

"Sherlock stop…"

"Let me finish" Sherlock's voice cut right through him, a serious tone shutting him up. "I have no desire to rip your clothes off and have my way with you, if that's what you're thinking. I just want you to know, sometimes it's better not being alone and accepting someone is there to protect you. You don't need to do it alone." John stared at him in utter shock. He hadn't expected such a valuable statement, it left him with a gaping wound in his chest and stomach.

"Sherlock…" His voice was barely a whisper as he stared up into his face, his mind swirling with confusion and in a split second something that completely threw him. Desire. Oh God, what's happening? This isn't me, I'm not…

"Not necessary John. Hopefully this will tide you over in the conversation department." He turned away; John stared at him for a while longer before Sherlock walked out of the room, leaving John in a puddle of emotions, fighting the emotional turmoil inside him.

The cool crisp London air chilled John as he walked down the streets of the city, the chill of night nipped at his fingers and toes, making him slightly less than comfortable. His hands found their way to the warmth of his pocket and his feet picked up. There was no destination, just out. John had hoped the air would help clear his mind.

There was no way he could deny it, standing in front of that table he had wanted to kiss him. Kiss Sherlock. Wrap his arm around the other man's neck and press his burning lips against his… The thought of it now made him feel ill, not because there was anything wrong with it but simply it wasn't him, it had never been him. He was so sure he knew who he was, how dare Sherlock come into his life and change it so dramatically. He had no right.

John looked at the sign of the bar he had mindlessly walked to, 'Carters'. Known for its cheap prostitutes and easy women. John had never considered entering a place so low brow, he had his standards. Even now, in his emotional confusion the building turned him off and he continued walking, only to stop now and look across the road. No… maybe. John hesitated before crossing the dead street, pushing open the doors. He felt his stomach turn in a nervous manner, a warning this was not a good idea. Walking towards the counter John sat on the stool furthest away from anyone else, what the hell was he doing there…

"What can I get you peach?" The man behind the counter asked, leaning on the bar with a polite smile on his face.

"Just a beer" John mumbled, the bartender pulled out a bottle cracked the top and handed it to him, John took it and down a good third of the bottle.

"…You don't really look comfortable love whats wrong?" John looked at the man and frowned, what a cliché. The Bar tender was going to listen to all his problems, John would pour his heart and soul into a complete stranger. What was he meant to say?

"Im fine" He mumbled, nothing else coming to mind.

"You don't really look fine to me" The man went back to wiping down the top of the counter. John watched him for a moment, deciding if he wanted to let it all pour out, then leave never to return. John found the thought of that oddly attractive.

"Im sorry" The bartender smiled kindly at him putting the cloth back down looking at him, ready to listen. Luckily it was almost closing and no one else was in the bar to hear or judge, apart from the couple in the far back. "I've always known what I was… Im not so sure anymore."

"Oooh, one of those. So you thought you would come to a gay bar and see if you fit in?"

"Something like that" Exactly like that. John watched as the bartender walked around the counter, feeling slightly uncomfortable with the small amount of distance he left between the two.

"Whats your name?" He asked, John wondered if it was to late for him to run off.

"My name is John" No last names.

"John, to be honest it's probably a midlife crisis" John stared at him for a moment, again that was not what he had been expecting. He had expected this man to be all over him, trying to convert him. He might have mixed them up with Jehovah Witness.

"…Do you think?"

"Your mid to late thirties right? A little young for one but entirely possible" he shrugged.

"I just… I feel things and its just not what im used to" John took another swig of his drink, feeling much more comfortable around this man then before, after learning he wasn't some gay predator.

"Married with kids?"

"No, im alone. Im always alone" And with that, the drink was finished. The silence that followed that was deafening, Oh look at that, the cliché bartender doesn't know what to say…

"You look like you could use some fun, up you get" ….Crap.

"I don't think so…"

"You have serious trust issues don't you John…" The Bartender looked at him for a moment before standing up.

"Yes, im a solider."

"Boy does that explain some things" He chuckle leaning over the counter pulling out some horse shoes. "Lets see that Solider aim then, come on" He walked over to the painted line on the ground. John only now looked around, for a gay bar it seemed rather ordinary. Nothing really different then a regular bar, just a promise of safety and acceptance. He stood walking over with a smile hinting at the side of his lips.

"Alright, but ill warn you right now im very good"

"Right, well if you can beat me, your drinks are on the house… My name is Maverick by the way…not that you asked." He smirked halving the horse shoes handing John about four.

"No I didn't did I, I don't normally get chummy with people im about to get free off" Maverick looked at him with an amused smirk, before gesturing for John to go first.

John looked at the wall, wooden sticks were nailed in with a hand painted circle around them with a number, this game he used to play as a boy, then again in the army. It was simple enough, get the most points. He tossed the first horse shoe, it hit the wall and fell to the ground. John frowned for a moment before smiling at the sound of Maverick laughing at him from beside him.

"That was very good John…" He said sarcastically, throwing his own, it landing on the highest scoring section falling right into place.

"Oh you stepped over the line, I saw that" John playfully accused.

"Oh no I didn't…"

"Yes you did, you stepped forward threw it and quickly wiggled back so I wouldn't notice"

"okay but my shoes are a size or so to big for me, so in reality I was still behind the line"

John laughed and threw the second horse shoe, this time it actually stayed where it was meant to, though not the highest score but decent. He wasn't going to win, but he was surprisingly enjoying the interaction, he realized then painfully that Sherlock was his only real friend. He had Molly, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson and Mycroft but he didn't consider any a friend. Just people he knew. This though, right here, in the middle of the night, in a gay bar across from a whore house, John was having a fun conversation, and playing a friendly game with a complete stranger.

Once he lost, rather embarrassingly so they went back to the bar, John thought he would win his proud back –now ever so slightly drunk- via a nice little arm wrestle. It was as though the short man had looked at this athletic 5'10, muscular man and thought 'I could take him' it wasn't going to help restore his honour that was for sure. With his arm pressed against his, it seemed as though they might have been matched.

"Surprising for a little man isnt it" John joked, Maverick chuckled looking at him with a smirk.

"Your leg is propped up against the counter" he gently nudged John's leg with his own.

"How else do you expect me to win!" Maverick was a little shocked at the playfulness of his comment followed by the second arm that grabbed his trying to force it down. Unable to fight both arms and the leg prop he gave up and let it fall laughing.

"Im so not giving that to you"

"Come on, I won don't be a sore loser!" John laughed taking another swig from his forth of fifth drink, while stretching his now stiff arm making a mental note to get back in shape. "I should be off, it was great meeting you Mav" John meant that, he really needed to relax and this guy was your normal run of the mill man, he didn't change because he was gay. He was happy with himself and his life, John respected that, even envied it.

"Your not going to get a cab at this hour John, its four am. We closed hours ago"

"Ill just walk" John shrugged downing his drink, that had stopped being beer after the first one.

"Where do you live?'

"I live off Marylebone road, Baker street" John said without hesitation.

"oh that's near Dorest Square right?"

"You like cricket?" John asked surprised that he had known about the cricket pitch about 5 minutes from his home.

"Yeah I used to play as a boy… Look im almost driving past there anyway and your clearly drunk, how about I give you a lift home?"

"Sure, your cheaper than a cab" John smiled grabbing his jacket, keeping an eye on this man just encase.

As the two drove, John realized how far he had actually walked, though his mind swam with the alcohol he had consumed he still had all his faculties and was completely there. When they past the cricket field John told him how he used to play with his army buddies, most of his platoon had died in a bombing so the subject was a rather sad one, but remembering the fun they used to have gave him solemn enjoyment.

Maverick pulled the car into the driveway of the pitch, the two walked out and John sat down. The grass had a nice cool layer of condensation that seeped through his clothes, leaving him damp. John didn't mind it, he laid back his arms behind his head looking up as the sun rose. Maverick sat beside him, Mav was a good man, a nice man. He would often make new friends and was very caring, he'd grown up in a loving environment, never really faced any real emotional turmoil, he was just a naturally happy man. John liked that, he felt completely unjudged by this man, his smile was addictive.

"Come on John, lets get you home… You'll need to sleep off that alcohol…and shame" Maverick smirked standing back up, offering John his hand to help him up. John hesitated looking at it for a moment before taking it getting pulled up, almost tripping. He wasn't completely drunk but laying down had made his muscles go soft. Taking a moment holding onto Mav to wake his body up, finally letting go heading back to his car.

The two drove in silence, Mav glanced at John to make sure he was fine, he had begun to nod off to sleep, Maverick smirked pulling in out the front of the apartment John had said was his. He got out of the car and walked around, opening John's door gently shaking him…

"Wake up sleeping beauty your home" Mav smirked as he stirred opening his eyes wide stepping out, almost tripping over the gutter only to be caught by Mav. "Your okay, I got you…"

John allowed Mav to support him up to the front door, though didn't really have a choice as his body threatened to collapse at any time, he fumbled with his keys trying to get it in the lock having the utmost difficulties, a strong hand wrapped around his helping him glide the key into position turning it.

"…Do you want to come inside?" _What? What! WHAT! _John screamed in his own mind, he was drunk but he was able to hear himself say those words. The worst part was, he wanted him to say yes. He wasn't horny or attracted to this man, he liked him sure but nothing sexual, yet he wanted him…

"I don't think so John"  
"Oh…" John looked disappointed briefly before nodding, pushing the door open.  
"Ill see you around John, feel free to stop by" Maverick smiled down at him about to walk out, but was stopped by an arm pulling him down and drunken lips crashing into his.

John's mind raced as he precipitated, thankfully not that much of a height difference. He felt Maverick pull him closer and deepen the kiss, his tongue pushing into his mouth, he could taste him, he could taste traces of tobacco and bourbon in his kiss. He had never had a kiss so strong, he felt the other man's power and strength compared to his own, he had always been that person not the meek one on the other end. It felt wrong. Not because he was male, that wasn't what bothered him. But John couldn't help but feel it wasn't the person, it wasn't Sherlock.

John knew why, but he couldn't bring himself to accept it. He was doing with Mav the exact same thing he had done with Miriam, or Vivian, whatever her name was. Pushing the emotions he had for Sherlock on someone else, all this time being so scared of being gay, it wasn't about being gay at all. He was scared because it was Sherlock, being straight was just an excuse.

Maverick pulled away from the stranger he had met hours before, if he hadnt seen the look on John's face he would have changed his mind about the question earlier. He didn't want it. He nodded once to John before turning back to his car. John shut the door in silence, and tackled the immense task that was climbing those stairs to get to his bed.

Sherlock pushed the curtain closed and moved away from the window as he saw the front door close, he was never a big sleeper but had stayed awake all night to wait for John, it didn't start out like that though, he had intended on sleeping but when John didn't return he had begun to worry. Now though he saw he had wasted his time. He walked straight to his bedroom not wanting to face John when he got up, his emotions betraying him and unable to bring up his wall just yet. Be felt pain, and betrayal, even anger. Hearing John walk in made it worse, he gritted his teeth and fought back what he feared were tears.

"Sherlock im getting some milk do you want anything?" Sherlock looked at the television, anyone would think he was interested, no he saying preoccupied so he couple keep himself composed. It was harder than it ever had been before not to let all his pain and emotions spill out like a child's vomit, he had been told he had no heart, he was a machine, but it was how he coped how he was able to push past pain and live day to day, his walls dropped for John and now he felt everything inside them break, shatter like glass. Without the walls he was weak, scared and alone, hoping praying that he could trust John not to take advantage of his venerability… He was a fool.

"No."  
"Are you sure? You haven't eaten in a few days, been pretty quiet too. Maybe you could come with me and we could get something to eat?" Sherlock didn't look at him, he kept his eyes fixed on whatever rubbish was playing on the television. He couldn't look at him.  
"No I'm fine" John hesitated behind Sherlocks chair unsure what to say to him, instead leaves his comment floating in the air, a piercing silence fills the empty space around Sherlock.

The television switches of and he stands, walking to the window peering out and down watching John cross the street. Sherlock felt an unusual urge, human urges he would normally ignore. He had no need for them, he was above it all; but not now. He wondered what other people would do in this position, with their emotions, he wanted to hurt John. Not physically of course, he cared to much about him to do that but emotional pain seemed to call to him, revenge for the unnatural pain John had caused himself. He deserved it.


End file.
